


The Mad King

by ludgerkresnik



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Assassin - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Smut, Violence, sort of RusAme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2508371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludgerkresnik/pseuds/ludgerkresnik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Everyone else would have just done it. Not you. You can't even do it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A long figure darts across the large, white yard, ducking out of sight from patrolling guards. The young man steps back from the wall he had pressed himself against and peeks up. A story or so up, he hopes, is the room of his target. There's a soft glow from the window, and he makes out a figure from behind thin curtains.

Is it worth the pay? The money?

Alfred isn't so sure, but hey, who is he to really judge? He's paid to assassinate and anyone sane would balk at the idea of killing the king. The Mad King, as they call him. Nobody has really seen him, they have seen his sisters and they're so very different. One is such a cry baby, but she's nice and matronly, taking care and visiting the orphanages and children. And the youngest sibling doesn't seem so stable or nice but from Alfred knows, she has her moments of kindness.

Where does that leave Ivan then? It isn't as if Alfred cares, he's just another victim in the game of politics. And the pay was good enough. He waits until the glow goes away, until the lumbering figure disappears. The snow crunches beneath his feet as he slowly walks towards the wall, running his hands against the frozen stone until he finds a good edge to grip on. A freezing wind blows, and he shivers faintly. He hadn't grown up in such a cold place, having been lucky to be born where there hadn't ever been any snow.

Though, his story is just like any others who chose this life. Parents either died or sold them off, because they were too poor, or something else happened. They all just agree to forget about their pasts, because if they remember, they're being held back. It makes them weak.

He grunts as he pulls himself up higher, nearly missing the next available jutted out stone. His whole body feels frozen, and it doesn't help that the wall is like ice at this time. He finally reaches the balcony and throws one leg over the large ledge, and stifles a yell as he falls forward. Grimacing, Alfred forces himself up and tries to get all of the snow off of him. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he gives up and opens the cracked open window. Slipping in, he looks around, eyes quickly adjusting to the dark.

The room is large and immaculate, fitting of a king. He's standing between the bed and a large oak desk, and Alfred quietly unsheathes his weapon. In the back of his mind, he could almost make out his mothers scolding voice for choosing violence over peace. The goddess always spoke to love, not to hate, no matter who that person was.

Unlike his twin sister, Alfred threw those ideas away. In order to protect her, he took on these jobs. He didn't care if he was hurting another family, just so long as Amelia was kept safe.

Alfred draws in a deep, silent breath and counts down in his head as he presses the sharp edge of the blade against the throat of their slumbering, mad king.

He hates doing this, admittedly.

“Hello!” The cheerful greeting throws him off and he nearly lets out a yell, he looks down, realizing that violet eyes are staring up at him. “Are you here to try to take my life as well?” Alfred hurries away as Ivan sits up, blankets falling down as he does so and platinum blond hair is askew. “I would suggest you hurry or at least make an attempt because there are guards just outside my door, and you left the door open.”

As Ivan speaks, there's a smile on his face.

“'As well'?” How could this man sound so cheerful even though he's about to die?

Ivan tilts his head to the side, “Do you think you're the only one who has made an attempt on my life so far?” Ivan certainly isn't popular, but Alfred didn't think that Ivan would be used to having someone try to assassinate him. Really, these people are crazy. “What's your name?”

“Alfred.”

That smile widens. “Nice to meet you, Alfred! Now, are you going to kill me or chicken out?” When Alfred doesn't move or respond, Ivan shrugs. “I can call for the guards you know. One noise out of me, and they'll come bursting in. What would you tell them, Alfred, if they saw you?”

“I'd be long gone.”

“No you wouldn't. It isn't humanly possible. You'd be caught by the time you reached the ground.” The smile is gone. “And executed. Like the rest.”

Slowly, Alfred moves forward, back towards Ivan. He's never killed someone when they were awake, and if he had, he always used poison. There was just something about slicing someone open while they were awake, the struggle, that deters him.

“You can't do it, can you?” Even with the blade against his throat again, Alfred still hasn't moved. “I guess not.”

“Why the hell do you sound so disappointed?”

There's still that stupid, fucking smile and Alfred wants to punch him. “I don't know,” Ivan shrugs. “I like you, Alfred. You seem nice.”

“I'm trying to take your _life_ and you think I'm _nice_?”

“Yes!”

Alfred balks. “But why?”

“Everyone else would have just done it. Not you. You can't even do it.” Ivan pulls up his thick night shirt, revealing scars that run further than Alfred wishes to know. There's one on his left side, where he had obviously been stabbed but not deep enough to get the heart. “See? They all tried and they all failed. I just wish they would use something to make me sleep through it. I hate pain.”

“You're insane.”

Ivan nods. “I guess I am!” A pause. “How about this? You live with me for four days, and you can kill me at any time, and if you don't after four days, you're allowed to leave, a free man. But if you leave now, I'll yell for the guards and tomorrow, you'll be hung!”

“So, I can't leave now?”

Ivan shook his head. “I gave you a few chances already! And I like you, and I like talking to you. You make me feel less lonely.”

“Deal.” It's too sudden, and Alfred knows it. Of course he's going assassinate Ivan, because that's what he's being paid to do! It's just, he needs to do it when Ivan is least expecting it. In the least painful way possible.

“Yay! Now, I think it's time for sleep. I'm tired.” At first, Alfred stands there, and moves to lay down on the floor but Ivan stops him with a, “Sleep on the bed with me! The floor is really uncomfortable and I hate it if my friends aren't comfortable.” Awkwardly, Alfred strips down as best he can and tries to ignore Ivan's stare or the heat that's rising to his face.

Ivan scoots over, closer to the wall as Alfred crawls into bed with him. It's surprisingly comfortable, and Alfred nearly dozes off on the spot, the warmth inviting. There's a space between them, but Alfred can just _sense_ Ivan's excitement.

“Good night, Alfred!” Ivan's voice is high, almost like a child's.

Alfred says nothing, and there's a long stretch of silence and he finally peeks over at Ivan, who is fast asleep. He's more on the plump side, as is expected of royalty, with a baby face and bangs that fall into his face. His cheeks are painted red, either from the cold and there's a faint smile on his dry lips.

What has he gotten himself into?


	2. Day One

Ivan's personal maid, a lovely woman with long brown hair braided back, rouses them. She makes no question to the blond stranger, only notifying that it is morning and they should greet the day. Ivan gets up, willingly but Alfred remains in the warm bed, too tired to move. Despite his occupation, the young man is quite the lazy one and would rather sleep in to late mornings, sometimes afternoons, much to his sister's chagrin.

The dagger sits on the nightstand, and he watches through a sleepy-haze as Ivan gets dressed. Scars litter his bulky body, and Alfred wonders if they're all from assassination attempts. Most of them have whitened or are starting to fade more, though there's deeper ones, that never quite healed properly. He wonders if his maid knows. He wonders if his sisters know.

“You should get up! We have a long day ahead of us.” Ivan remarks, odd violet eyes on Alfred. That childish smile is still there, and Alfred can detect a hint of excitement.

“What will your workers think? A stranger exiting your room.”

Ivan shrugs. “They won't question it. They never talk to me, anyways.”

_Probably 'cause you're kind of intimidating, dude._ “Shitty.” He doesn't mean it. “I'll prefer to stay in here, thanks. Rather not get the second degree from any knights.”

“Won't you get hungry? Sore? Bored?”

“I'm _warm_.” Alfred sits up. “Besides, I don't trust you. How do I know, if I leave this room with you, that you won't immediately alert the guards? Or point out that I'm an assassin?”

“I would have done that last night!” Ivan exclaims. “I like you, Alfred. It gets quite lonely in this place.”

 

–

 

Nobody gave them second glances, and Alfred finds himself feeling so relived for that. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants, and slouches as he walks. In comparison to Ivan, who stands tall with his head held high and a smile on his face.

“You should stand up straight, friend Alfred,”

Alfred scowls. He remembers someone that he doesn't want to think about, making the same remarks. Yet, he does so anyways, only to resume slouching a few minutes later. It isn't that he lacks confidence (Arthur would always bemoan how overconfident Alfred is), it's more or less, he doesn't care how he comes across just so long as people leave him alone. And nobody is trying to kill him.

They eventually reach their destination, after taking a few turns and heading down a long flight of stairs. Alfred wonders if this is the only work out royalty actually ever gets, considering how fucking large the entire palace is. With a sigh, he follows the king in past double doors and is greeted by the sight of a woman with short blonde hair that's just a few colors darker than Ivan's own. She greets Ivan with a loud cry, crushing him into her body as she hugs him and cries.

“I've missed you my little brother!”

This must be Yekaterina, Alfred thinks. She lives up the tales he's heard about her: big, beautiful and kind of a crybaby. At least, so far from what he's seen.

“Yes, yes, big sister. I've missed you too.” Ivan awkwardly pats her on the back. “I did not know you were returning so soon.”

Yekaterina sniffles and snuggles Ivan as close as possible. “Well, it was pointed out to me by Toris that I hardly ever see you! I decided to come home as soon as possible! Natalia should be here tonight!”

Alfred has only heard of Toris by ear, that he's Ivan's most trusted adviser and a pretty big push-over. As Ivan remains distracted by his older sister, Alfred takes the time to slip out of the room. He walks away as quickly as he could, and tries to follow the path they took to get to the great hall, and finds himself getting more and more lost as he walks.

“Like, can I help you?” The annoyed voice catches Alfred off guard and he spins around to see a man smaller than him standing there, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“Er,” He wasn't prepared for this. “I-I was wondering where Ivan's room is?”

“Why do you want to know?” The man presses.

“W-well, I'm a uh,” Alfred swallows. He's not good at making up lies on the spot. “Err, a friend? Of his. Yeah. I'm a friend of his.”

“Uh-huh. What's your name?”

“Uhhh, A-Alfred...?”

The blond male narrows his eyes and leans in close, even though he only reaches to about Alfred's chest, Alfred still has to take an awkward step back and feels like the boy is towering over him. “When did you get here?”

“Earlyyy this morning?”

“How'd you guys meet?”

Alfred shrugs. “By accident.” He doesn't need to elaborate, right? The stare forces him to continue. “His elder sister invited me over for tea or whatever, and we ran into each other. Happy?”

“His sisters have been out.”

“A long time ago.” Finally, the guy relents and his face goes red, he lets out a soft 'eep', ducks into one of the rooms and peeks out around the corner. Alfred quirks a brow. “Riiight. Well. I'm going to keep searching for Ivan's room.”

“It's one more floor up.” The now suddenly shy male replies. “Third door on the left.” The door slams shut.

Alfred remains standing there, for a moment, staring at the now shut door, baffled. The door cracks open. “Yep. I'm still here, dude.” The door quickly shuts and Alfred rolls his eyes. Strange people live in this place, indeed. He follows the weird guy's directions, and quietly opens the door, slipping in.

The bed had been made, but his dagger remains right in plain sight. Alfred quickly grabs it and hooks it on the back of his pants, in his belt and tugs his shirt over it, to conceal it. Maybe he can make his move today.

Though with Yekaterina here, Alfred wonders if it would be a wise move, plus that one weird guy knows who he is. If he kills Ivan and disappears, they know his name. _That_ could be a problem, especially if he remains in this kingdom.

“Excuse me?”

Alfred jumps and turns around. Does everyone just sneak up on everyone in this place? “ _Yes_?”

“Are you Alfred?” He nods. “I'm Toris. Ivan sent me to look for you.”

Alfred stares at the other man for a moment, they're around the same height. “Uh. Okay,” Alfred finally speaks. “Where is he?”

“The Great Hall, sir.” Perhaps during lunch, he could take the time to poison the king. Normally, that's off limits during low-key assassinations but he may have to do that. A servant would be framed, of course, and executed but it's probably for the better. He allows Toris to lead him, both silent. When they reach the room, after what felt like forever, Toris turns around. “I know why you're here. Ivan told me.”

A chill runs down his spine. “You gonna kill me?”

“Under his request, no.” Toris draws in a deep breath. “However, I don't promise not to retaliate if you do go through with it.”

Alfred grins. “You'd be doing me a favor.”

 

–

 

Not a good start to a relationship, for sure, but Alfred doesn't care. Throughout breakfast (after awkward introductions) Alfred had remained silent but had scarfed down the food without a second thought. In the back of his mind, he can hear Arthur lecturing him on table manners.

Ivan tells him a little later that he has some work to do, so Alfred is welcome to do whatever he wants. With this bid, he leaves Ivan to do whatever he has to do and avoids Yekaterina as best as he can. From exploring the library lined with books of old, the musky smell that brings him back to a certain point of childhood that he tries to ignore to the barracks of the soldiers.

“Can I help you with anything?” Toris sounds annoyed as he sees Alfred peeking over the corner, into the armory.

“Just looking around.” Alfred replies, just as annoyed. “I hear you're the best Ivan has.”

“You've heard right.” Toris goes back to whatever it is he's doing, which seems to be polishing the swords. “Why do you ask?”

“Just repeating the rumors.”

Toris sighs, “Why are you here?”

“Because I made a deal with Ivan. I thought he told you that.”

“Yet, you haven't killed him yet.” Alfred shrugs. “Do you even want to?”

“It's what I'm gettin' paid to do.” There's a long pause and Alfred finally enters into the armory, and picks up a sword, swinging it around. “The person who paid me is anonymous, so I can't disclose who it is that ordered it.”

“Ivan has many enemies.”

“I've noticed.”

Toris rubs harder on the silver metal. “This has been going on since he was little,” Alfred puts the sword down.

“I knew he wasn't very much favored, because of the legacy his father left behind but, since he was a kid? Who'd want to off an innocent child?”

“You should leave.” Toris advises. “Actually, just leave the castle and don't return, if you know what's good for you.”

“When I get a job, Toris, I don't back down.”

“Then leave the armory.” His green eyes are narrowed, a frown on his tan face. “Though, if you know what's best for you, leaving the castle would be a better idea.”

“Have a good day, Toris.”

Alfred heads back inside, casually strolling across the large snowy courtyard, stopping momentarily to pet a cat that has seemed to make it's home there. With that, he heads inside, and back up to Ivan's room, where he throws himself onto the bed. If he could, he'd leave but then, he'd have a target on his back _and_ lose the money that could help Amelia. As he mulls over this, Alfred eventually falls asleep.

“Master Alfred, please wake up.” The maid from this morning is back, gently shaking him. “Master Ivan is looking for you.”

“I'll play later,” he mumbles as he turns over.

“It's rude to ignore the request of the king.”

Alfred groans and sits up. “Hey, what's your name?”

The woman blinks and frowns. “I do not think that matters, young sir.”

“C'mon, I hate referring to people as 'hey you'.”

“Anya,” she replies, after a moment of thought. It strikes him somewhere, a cold feeling that seems to shrivel his heart and a ghost wraps its hands around his throat, constricting him of air. “Sir?”

Alfred coughs, clearing his throat. “Sorry. Beautiful name,” He compliments. “I knew an Anya, she was a nice girl. Shy, though.” Anya says nothing. “Hey, could you perhaps tell me a little more about Ivan?”

She shakes her head. “Now, get going, Master Alfred.”

A moments of hesitation, but Alfred climbs out of bed, thanks her again and leaves. When he does manage to track down Ivan, he's in the courtyard, playing with the cat Alfred had pet earlier. “Aren't you cold?”

“I like the cold!” Ivan cheerily responds. “It reminds me of childhood!”

Alfred rolls his eyes. “Right. It's fuckin' cold out here, let's go back in.” Ivan looks crestfallen and looks at the cat. “Take the cat, too.” The crestfallen look is replaced by a large smile and he scoops up the cat, who lets out a protesting yowl. “Don't hug it too tightly.”

“Oh. Sorry, kitty.” Ivan still hugs the black cat and keeps kissing it's head. “So, I heard you met Toris!”

“Yeah.”

“He'll warm up to you, eventually! He's been my friend since we were kids.”

Alfred isn't so sure that there will be enough time for that.

After lunch, with Alfred dodging Yekaterina's questions as best he can and unable to keep his story straight, she pulls him aside. Her grip is surprisingly tight and from what he has heard about her, he finds is the completely opposite.

“Do not hurt my brother.” Her voice is low. “Seeing him sad is the last thing I want as his big sister.”

“Yeah, yeah. Toris already went through the whole threatening me thing. Don't worry, I won't.” _Just yet._ He draws in a breath. “However, could you tell me more about Ivan's childhood?”

Yekaterina releases him and he stumbles back a bit. “No. You can ask him yourself.”

A long, tense moment and Alfred shakes his head. “You guys are full of secrets.”

“Do you like sweets?”

“Eh?”

“I do not wish to cause a tense air, it will bother little brother,” she explains. “And he quite likes you, so I will try to like you as well.”

“In that case, yes, I do like sweets.” She smiles, and it's a warm, genuine smile, unlike Ivan's. She tells him to wait for a moment, disappearing into the kitchens, and returns moments later with a handful of hard candy and sets them into his outstretched hands.

“Be sure to share with Ivan.”

“I dunno. I hate sharing my food.”

She only pats him on the head and he thanks her, hurrying to catch up with Ivan. He throws one into his mouth, the flavor reminds him of blueberries and that satisfies him. When he finds Ivan, it's in his room, with the cat that he's feeding milk to.

“Your sister gave me these,” Alfred says, handing him half of the candy. “They're good.”

“I'm glad you liked them!” Ivan exclaims. “I helped make them.”

“You cook?”

Ivan nods. “Toris and sister got me into it. I'm told that a king should know how to take care of himself, and that includes cooking. So I'll understand the labors of my people.”

_That isn't a very laborious job unless you're cooking for a party,_ Alfred thinks but decides not to say anything. They talk, but it isn't about much. Ivan presses for information about Alfred, about his family (if he has any), what he likes to do and Alfred tries to keep his answers short and concise, tries to make it lack in interest.

“I do have a sister,” Alfred says. “We're twins.”

“Do you get along with her?”

He nods. “We have our fights, but in the end, we only have each other. Is it the same with you and your sisters?”

“I never get to see them,” Ivan says, quietly. “They're always gone. Big sister has orphanages to run, and with the war going on right now, they've gotten packed. She's really nice, though a bit too emotional at times.” He pets the cat, thoughtfully. The purr is loud. “My little sister is a bit weird, but she can be nice at times. Toris likes hers. Does your sister like anyone, Alfred?”

“Uh, she did have someone.”

“What happened?”

Alfred curls his hands into fists and he shifts, “Just stuff.”

“Do you like anyone?”

“I did.”

“And I'm guessing something happened to her?”

“Y-yeah,” Alfred had always hated the feel of a knife or dagger or sword stabbing through a person, the way it breaks against the bones, the way the pain isn't instant if something goes wrong, the way their eyes tear up. The way blood seeps out and the look of betrayal, pain and a wish to fight for their given right to live. The ghost constricts around his throat again. “Uh, do you like anyone?”

“Well, I like Toris. I also like you, and Feliks, and Eduard and Anya. I like my sisters.”

“Romantically, I mean.”

Ivan thinks for a moment, and shakes his head. “Nope!”

 

–

 

Alfred feels like a kid again, as him and Ivan slip out of the bedroom that night, the cat at their heels. It's as if he's back at Arthur's large estate, with Amelia, and sneaking through the halls and down to the kitchens to sneak food or to go outside to play some more.

When they reach the kitchens, it's empty and dark, ominous feeling. Empty milk bottles line the back door, a sign for the boy who delivers fresh milk to them. Ivan grabs the bowl of hard candy, and a bottle of alcohol. He giggles a little.

“This is fun!”

Just like a child.

Alfred's mouth feels dry.

 


	3. Days 2 and 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support thus far!

Alfred and Ivan eat the hard candy until they get stomach aches and drink the alcohol until their vision spins and inhibitions disappear. By that time, it's nearing late night and they're struggling to keep quiet, struggling to keep from alerting the guards out there. The last thing Alfred wants right now is Toris' sword shoved through him because he kept the king up.

He takes another swig of the burning alcohol and hands it over to Ivan. “Tell me about your father, everyone seems to be keepin' secrets.” He slurs his words, and rubs his eyes, trying to fix his vision.

“Papa wasn't a kind man,” Ivan says, and takes a sip now. “He had a bad temper.” Alfred doesn't say anything. The candy is gone and his stomach aches. They lapse into a heavy silence. “Most won't tell you this and it's never talked about but he's tried killing me.”

The admittance hangs in the air.

“Why?” He finally asks, voice cracking. He coughs, to clear his throat. Ivan offers him the half finished bottle and Alfred shakes his head in rejection.

“I don't know. I don't think he ever loved me.” Ivan sets the bottle down and pulls off his night shirt again. “The scar closest to where my heart is, is from him.” A pause. “I did some of these myself. Toris yelled at me for it before.”

“You're fucked up. This is fucked up.”

Ivan nods. “Do you hate being alive too, Alfred?”

“Sometimes,” Alfred quietly admits. “Lost my parents when I was really young. Arthur took me and my sister in.” He hesitates. “Because of the new thing in most countries, he was executed for being a magic user within a few years. Since then, we've been on our own. I'm an assassin for pay. She uh. She works in the church.”

“Did she come with you?”

“No.”

“Do you miss her?”

Before he had left, they'd gotten into a big argument. It was about this job. She kept suggesting he become a priest or do something else, he could do bigger and better things instead of slaughtering people. That argument had caused her deteriorating health to get even worse, that when he had left, she was bed ridden.

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?” Ivan whispers.

“It's nothing.” Alfred mumbles. “Just getting tired is all.”

“You're full of secrets.”

“I could say the same for you,”

“Father had a lot of people killed, which is why they hate me.”

“If I'm not mistaken, you also did the same thing.”

Ivan goes quiet and he gets up, setting the bottle of alcohol down and grabs his shirt. “I'm going to bed now. Good night, friend Alfred.”

 

–

 

When Alfred wakes up the next morning, his stomach is hurting worse than before and his head is pounding. Outside, the wind screams and hits the glass roughly. Ivan is nowhere in the bedroom and Alfred is certain he's going to puke. One little movement, and he _does_.

Anya calls for a bath. And new clothes.

As he sits and soaks, the young maid comes by every so often to check up on him. She brings him much needed water, and can't offer much else in terms of remedies.

“Also, His Majesty will be very busy today.”

“Got it.”

“An important guest has arrived as well, so please be on your best behavior.”

“Right.”

“And be down for breakfast. The Lady is disappointed you weren't there yesterday.”

“On it.”

Anya frowns. “You're not really listening to me, are you?”

“I feel like I'm dying, Anya,” Alfred groans. “I don't think breakfast or seeing people are things I wish to do right now.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“It was Ivan's idea!” Alfred sinks lower into the warm water, until his chin and mouth disappear beneath it as Anya gives him a disapproving look.

“Don't blame the king for your decisions.”

“It was his idea! And it honestly sounded like a good one, too.” Alfred whines, sitting back up. “Gods, my head _hurts_.” Anya only sighs and shakes her head. “I know, I know. I shouldn't have drank so much.”

“Of course.” She smooths out her dress. “You said you knew another woman named Anya?”

Alfred nods. “Yeah. We uh. We had something of a relationship for awhile.”

“What happened?”

“Daughter of a rich diplomat didn't like the idea of her spending time with a street rat like me,” His voice is quiet and he draws in a deep breath. The wind outside seems to only get worse and one glance towards the window shows that it's a pure white out. “And uh, at some point, the man she was forcibly married to...” He trails off and draws in a deep breath. “He wasn't very nice with his hands.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

When the water turns cold is when Alfred finally forces himself out of the tub, Anya handing him cloth to dry off with and some fresh clothes. After that, she excuses herself and waits outside for him. When he does exit the room, he looks and feels little better than before, but not by much. “Do they fit?”

“They're _itchy_.”

“You'll get used to it.”

“I prefer my actual, loose, comfy clothes.”

“Suck it up.”

“You're a servant. Should you really be talking like that?”

Anya shakes her head. “You're not royalty nor my master, therefore, I don't have to be polite with you.”

“I am the kings guest.” Anya quickens her pace. “Do you like him?”

“His Majesty?”

“No, the stable-boy.”

Anya falls quiet for a moment. “He isn't well liked.” She finally answers. “It's because he's a little bit...”

“Not there. I realized that.”

“You know of the executions he himself had done, right? With a lot of the opposing political families and judges.”

Alfred nods. “I asked around the village when I first arrived. They are either in favor of him or really against him. But I'm asking about you. What do _you_ think of him?”

She eyes the guards and looks at him. “I believe we are here. Please enjoy your breakfast.” She gives him a deep bow before walking away. Stunned at this, Alfred stands there for a brief moment and then pushes open the heavy doors. Is opposition illegal?

At the sight of Alfred, Ivan quickly scrambles to get up and stumbles a little as he runs over to the assassin and pulls him into an almost bone-crushing hug. “Good morning!”

“Yeah. Good morning to you, too.” Alfred awkwardly pats Ivan on the back, trying so hard to breath and get away before Ivan breaks any of his bones. “I'm surprised you're not hung over.”

“Nope! Why? Are you?”

“N...o....” Alfred slowly says, finally managing to break free. “I'm uh. I'm fine.”

“Good! I have lots of things to do today, unfortunately. And it's storming out.”

“I could hear the wind.” Alfred grumbles as Ivan leads him to a chair, that is right next to Ivan's, at the left. It dawns on Alfred that there's some new faces in the large room, and briefly wonders who they are.

“You know, it's proper and respectful to bow to the king.” The man next to him, deadpans. He obviously doesn't want to be here.

Ivan giggles a little bit. “Don't worry about it, Stefan! He's my friend!”

“Stefan? As in...the infamous sorcerer?” Alfred asks, almost awed.

“It depends on who's asking.”

“So, like, what time did you arrive?”

It's that weird guy from yesterday, Alfred thinks with a scowl.

“Before the storm hit,” Stefan replies. “Very early this morning.” Alfred peeks at Stefan again, noticing a scar across his cheek and wonders where that's from. The child next to him gently tugs at Stefan's shirt and whispers something in his ear. Whatever the boy had told him, causes his bored expression to turn somber. The other new arrival looks uncomfortable, as though he really doesn't want to be here.

Alfred tries to slowly eat, mostly because he's sure inhaling food would cause them to look at him strangely and because of that hangover is making the food taste not so great. He's sure he's going to throw up at some point.

Eventually, he excuses himself and apologizes to Yekaterina for not staying, but he feels sick. She tells him not to worry and to go rest.

 

–

 

Later in the day, and after what felt like gallons of water, Alfred finds himself feeling better and vows not to drink with Ivan ever again. He pulls at the tight clothes again, scowling. He misses his clothes, but unfortunately, he had to throw up.

He figures that Stefan and Ivan are in a meeting about something, if the infamous sorcerer is here. Though, it baffles Alfred as to _why_ Stefan would come by, in the midst of war. As far as he knows, Stefan despises this kingdom and supports the other lands. Why, nobody knows. Stefan had destroyed any documents containing about himself, from what Alfred had learned from rumors that plagued the streets of the other kingdoms. Maybe he's just passing through, or playing peace-maker.

It isn't as if Stefan will care if Alfred offs Ivan, if anything, he'll just roll his eyes and disappear for centuries until he's forced to socialize again.

A hand shoots out from somewhere, interrupting Alfred from his thoughts and he lets out a yell as he's jerked into a room and slammed against the wall, with a knife to his throat.

“E-easy there.”

Stefan glares, as he presses the dagger even harder against the skin, drawing blood. “Who hired you to assassinate Ivan?”

“I don't know.” Physically, Alfred can tell that he's stronger than Stefan, but the sorcerer has the upper hand as he does have magic. And one call can have Alfred's head rolling by dawn. “S-seriously, I _don't know_.”

“How do you not know?”

“Well, if you remove that knife from my throat and let me go, I'll tell you.” Waitaminute. “How the hell did you even know I'm here to kill Ivan?”

“A little birdie told me.”

“That kid?”

“You're not as dumb as you look,” Stefan huffs, releasing Alfred from his grip. “Now, who hired you to kill the king?”

“Like I said, I don't know. All requests go through someone we consider our 'leader'. Though we're a bit scattered, obviously.” A pause. “The request was anonymous, that was all that was explained to me. They wanted the best, and I was chosen to do it.” Alfred presses his fingers against the small cut on his neck, feeling the blood cover his fingers. “Damn you're more violent than you come off as.”

“Only when I need to be,” Stefan crosses his arms over his chest. “To be honest, I wouldn't care if you killed him. Hell, I would be more than happy to help you get away, _if_ you do it, but unfortunately, there will be peace talks when the others arrive.”

“With him gone, it wouldn't matter, right? His father started the war. His death would mean peace.”

“No. His death would cause things to be worse. Hell, they might think one of the others is trying to usurp the throne or gain an upper hand.” Stefan sighs. “You're an assassin. You should know how this works.”

“So...what? You want me to wait until peace talks are over, or do you want me to just do it?”

Stefan stands there for a moment, and finally looks at him in the eyes. Despite the guy being a little bit shorter than him, Stefan sure has a way of making Alfred feel small. The little grin doesn't look sincere and it's actually kind of off putting. “Why are you asking me that, dear assassin? This is your second day here, right?”

“Yes...”

“Why haven't you done it yet? In fact, the night you arrived-before you ask, Ion told me-you could have done it then. Why didn't you?”

Alfred isn't sure what to say. “Well, we made a deal. I got caught up in the moment and got caught off guard.”

“Even so. You had yesterday. You had last night. Yet, nothing.”

“Well, Toris admittedly frightens me.”

Stefan's grin disappears and he's glaring again. “No, he doesn't.” His tone is sharp. “Ask yourself why you haven't killed a king so despised, but loved at the same time? He's the mad king, isn't he? Unstable, much like the weather here.”

“One minute, he's in love with the peasants and wants to be around them, and the next, for no reason, he's calling for spilled blood. I know. I've talked to the villagers.” It comes out snappy. “Look, I don't know why I haven't done it yet. I've had my chances, like you said. I just. I don't know. I'm waiting for _something_.”

“You pity him.”

“I do not.” There's a long silence between them, and Alfred isn't sure what to do or say, and he doesn't _want_ to ask himself why he hasn't killed Ivan yet. It would be so easy, and he could disappear quick enough that Toris wouldn't be able to ram his sword through him. Or maybe, he'd let Toris do it anyways.

“Stefan,” A little voice breaks the air and Alfred nearly jumps out of his skin. “King Ivan is asking for you.” The little boy from this morning is standing in the doorway, and for whatever reason, is in a fluffy pink dress and hair in pig-tails, held up with pink ribbons. “Also, doesn't my dress look pretty?”

“You look adorable,” Stefan replies. “Did Katyusha put you in that dress?” The little boy nods his head, vigorously.

“Also, Feliks helped!”

“Remember to thank them.”

“I will!” The little boy finally takes notice to Alfred standing there, a little bit dumbstruck. “Oh. Were you busy?”

Stefan gives him a sidelong glance and returns his attention back to the child, grinning a little (that looks actually pretty sincere), “No, I think we're done. I'll go and see Ivan now. D'you wanna come with or do you want to go do other things?”

“I wanna see Ivan's kitty!”

“Ivan has a cat?”

“We found a stray one yesterday,” Alfred replies, voice a little pitched. “I can take the kid to him if you want. I think Ivan had a room set up just for the damn cat.”

“Please don't say bad words,” The child says, frowning. “The goddess doesn't like that.”

“Uh, right.”

 

–

 

Alfred lays in bed that night, mulling over the days events. He's surprised that he didn't see Toris anywhere, and unsurprisingly, Katyusha had avoided him as much as she could. Next to him, Ivan sleeps. Quietly, Alfred climbs out of the bed and grabs his dagger, hovering over the bed for a brief moment.

Could he actually do it?

He's done this millions of times before. The storm silenced hours ago, he could make his escape through the window. Or Alfred could call it quits and just leave.

And never look back. If asked why he failed the mission, he could just be partly honest. He got caught. Had to make a break for it.

“Are you gonna do it yet?”

“You're a light sleeper.”

“It comes with so many assassination attempts.” Ivan doesn't move from his position, however. “I won't make noise, I promise.”

Alfred glares. “Why are you making this so goddamn difficult?”

“I don't think I'm making it difficult.”

The assassin throws the dagger to the ground. “I need air,” he finally says. “I'll be back in later.”

“It may not be storming, but it is freezing. Put something warm on.”

Alfred doesn't listen as he storms out, door slamming behind him.

 

–

 

Alfred presses himself against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and trying to retain heat and silently cursing himself for making such a stupid, rash decision. The sky is a dark blue, completely void except for the shimmering of the stars and the moon. The stable isn't that far of a walk from here, he could take a horse and leave as quickly as possible. They wouldn't be none the wiser nor would know where to look. Well, maybe Stefan would, but he probably wouldn't say anything.

A twig snaps, causing him to jump and check himself over for his weapon, that he left in the room. Alfred curses.

“Don't worry, I'm a friend.” Toris' voice rings out against the heavy silence. “What are you doing out here?” He asks as he approaches Alfred, red fingers holding the oil lamp. “Especially so late.”

“Thinking.”

“About running away?”

“Kind of,” Alfred admits.

“We all think about doing that,” Toris shivers a little bit. “Unfortunately, we can't. Ivan...is very uh,” He hesitates. “I don't have a word for him, but he's like a child.”

“I'm aware.”

“A very cruel one.”

“I know.” Toris falls silent for a moment. “I need to do it. I know I need to.”

“It's just a matter of, if you really want to.”

“I-I never want to take a life, Toris. But it's my _job_.”

“If you leave, I won't say a word.”

Alfred scowls. “I'm not gonna leave.” He looks around. “So, why are you out here?”

“Emperor Yao is due to arrive sometime tonight, I'm just waiting for him.” Toris rubs his arms. “Anya is at the stables right now, though I do wonder if he's been delayed due to the storm.”

“Maybe,” Alfred mumbles. “Sucks that you have to be out here in the cold.” Toris shrugs, and Alfred finds himself feeling a little bit better. It's weird, because unlike yesterday, today Toris seems kinder. Maybe Ivan spoke to him? Or maybe he was just in a bad mood and is trying to make it up to Alfred. “Hypothetically, if I do kill Ivan, what would happen, exactly?”

“One of his sisters would get the throne,” Toris replies. “And I'll also run you through with my sword.”

“Toris!” Anya calls from somewhere. “The Emperor is here!”

“Would you like to help?”

“Sure. I don't want to go back in just yet.”

The walk isn't far, thankfully, and a man, smaller than Alfred stands there with his bags as the servant hurries to collect them the best she can. Toris grabs the blanket that hands on the wall adjacent to them, and offers it to the man. Truth be told, if Toris hadn't told Alfred that the person arriving was an emperor _,_ he would have mistaken him for a girl. Delicate hands accept the large blanket and he wraps it around him, hiding his red outfit lined with gold.

“New servant?” He asks, glancing at Alfred.

“Just a friend,” Alfred replies.

“Alfred, this is His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Yao Wang.”

Awkwardly, Alfred bows. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

“Yes, yes.”

Alfred helps Anya with the luggage, following Toris, who seems to be explaining Ivan's absence and other issues. “He seems stuffy,” Alfred whispers to Anya.

“He's an Emperor, do you expect him to be all buddy-buddy with a commoner like you?”

“You know, you're kind of a bitch.”

She smiles at that.

Yao's room is in another corridor, the furthest away from Ivan, which seemed to be a little strange, but Alfred says nothing as he sets down the luggage wherever Yao dictates.

“You're good to go, Alfred,” Toris says. “Go to bed.”

“Right,” He mumbles. “It was nice meeting you, your majesty.”

“Yes, same to you.”

When Alfred finds the corridor that Ivan is in, he hesitates for a moment and finally, opens the door. Ivan is deep asleep by now, and Alfred's dagger is where he had thrown it earlier. Quietly, he picks it up and slips it underneath the pillow.

The cat meows at him and he puts his finger over his lips, and pats the cat on the head.

 

–

 

When Alfred wakes up the next morning, he feels like he's being crushed beneath Ivan's weight, who had decided to cuddle him sometime during the night. He wriggles out from the tight grip the best he can, and crawls out of bed, and grabs the dagger.

Changing into different clothes that Anya left for him (this time a little more looser _and_ comfortable, less itchy), he exits the room to go check on other things. Servants bustle about more today than they had the past few days and he wonders if it's because others are supposed to arrive today.

He tracks down Toris, who explains to him that Mikkel from the North is supposed to arrive, as well as Vash from the Central Kingdom.

“Are the peace talks today?”

“No,” Toris replies. “Feliks, _put that away_!”

The blond man pouts and sets down the flintlock and Alfred forgot those even existed. They're noisy, and he prefers more silent methods. “Is it so everyone can get adjusted to this hellish cold?”

“Yes.”

“Are you being sarcastic?

“Perhaps.” Alfred finds it hard to keep at Toris' pace and finally gives up. “Please wake Ivan for me. He has to greet Yao still, instead of sleeping all day.”

With a sigh, Alfred turns around and heads back to Ivan's room and gently shakes him. “Ivan, wake up. Emperor Yao is here and you need to say hi to him, like a good king.” Ivan cracks open a purple eye and mumbles something, turning over. “Dude, it's polite to go say hi, and it shows you're diligent.”

“Yes, Alfred.” Ivan mumbles. “I'm aware.”

“Don't you like Emperor Yao?”

“'s'alright.” Ivan mumbles. “His family is very fun, though.”

“Unfortunately, it's just him.”

Ivan sits up. “I can't wait for King Mikkel, because he's very fun.”

It was sometime later afternoon when Mikkel and Vash arrived, one right after the other. Vash turned out to be a grump while Mikkel was actually very outgoing and friendly, while Yao remained wary of Alfred's presence but he was diplomatic at best.

Somewhere between trying to keep up with Ivan, and being dragged off to babysit Ion, Alfred finds himself dressed in heavy clothing and on a brown and white horse. On the black horse next to him is Ivan, while Mikkel, Yao and Vash were somewhere around, along with Toris and Feliks.

Katyusha had decided to stay inside while the others went on their little outing. As did Stefan and Mihai, as Ion was in a lot of trouble for pulling a prank on Stefan earlier (Mikkel and Alfred helped).

“Alfred, I'll race you!”

“You're on.”

The others somehow got involved, and as they ran, the cold wind whips in Alfred's face and he momentarily forgets what he's there. He forgets that Ivan is the 'mad king', the monster he's supposed to kill, especially trying to look at him and seeing his face scrunched into a smile. Childish laughter that rings out, and cheeks rosy from the cold.

From this distraction, and the horse catching on ice, Alfred loses both composure and grip, falling off and takes a little tumble. His arm _hurts_. The race is done and he's being helped back up by Ivan and Mikkel.

When they do get back, Alfred is nursing his arm and Katyusha panics over the blood that's smeared on Alfred's face. Stefan whips up a quick concoction for the cuts on Alfred's face and tries to hide his grin as Alfred cusses and winces every time Feliks dabs the cotton against the injuries. Alfred decides that both Stefan and Feliks are assholes and he hates them.

At least his arm is only sprained and not broken, he's sure he can use it by tomorrow or later tonight.

That night, as Ivan and Alfred get ready for bed, Alfred notices that Ivan is bouncing around more than usual.

“This place is always so quiet,” Ivan explains. “that I like it when it's so lively. I wish they would never leave!”

“Well, they have uh, kingdoms to run,” Alfred says.

“I know.”

Alfred climbs into bed. “Well, good night.”

“Yes. Good night.” Before Alfred can do or say anything, Ivan grabs his face and presses his lips onto Alfred's, it's hard,wet and kind of awkward, and Ivan pulls away just as quickly, a large smile on his face. And just like that, Ivan is out like a light.

His lips tingle.


	4. Day Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is smut and violence towards the end of the chapter. Neither are very detailed.
> 
> Had to edit something someone pointed out on another site this is posted to!

Alfred doesn't sleep much that night, and instead, decided to explore every nook and cranny of the castle, committing it all to memory for use later. In the morning, Ivan is still bouncing around, still cheerful. Frustrated that Ivan had kissed him, the young assassin goes about ignoring the king for most of the morning. He helps Toris as best he can, and when he can. Sometime after lunch is when the meeting was called to start, and Alfred is kicked out from their little grouping.

And he's stuck babysitting.

“This isn't what I'm being paid for,” Alfred grumbles as he slumps down against the opposite wall of the child, who finds more content in playing with the dumb cat. “Hey, kid, since you're an Empath or whatever, does that mean you can predict the outcome?”

“No,” the little boy sounds puzzled. “I can read minds and read people's emotions, not predict the future.”

“Right,” The assassin says, sighing. “I hate this waiting.” Ion only shrugs, as best as he can as his arm is trapped between four gray paws, fingers lightly being bitten. “Hey, will you be okay on your own?”

“Yes,”

“Good,” Alfred says as he stands up, faintly stretching. “I'll be back later.”

“Don't get hurt again,” Is all Alfred hears before he exits the room, shutting the door behind him.

First, he makes his way to Ivan's bedroom and peeks in. Anya hadn't been in there yet, which is a plus and the young man fixes up the bed first. He opens up every possible escape route, and peeks behind the giant curtain that covers one part of the wall, checking to make sure the trap door is still unlocked.

It's small, but Alfred is certain he could fit with some struggle. Out the window wouldn't be an option. Out the front door is a viable option, but he'd rather not risk his chances. This time, Alfred hides his dagger underneath the pillow as an easy grab.

The thing Alfred wasn't expecting was Ivan to kiss him last night, he wasn't expecting those pesky feelings to get in the way or even surface, but he can take it to his advantage. After all, he's taking too long. Any longer and someone else will be sent, and that's something Alfred is not willing to risk.

When Alfred finishes his scouring of every escape route imaginable, he returns to the room Ion and the cat were in to find Mihai sitting there, watching Ion.

“I thought you were in the meeting.”

Mihai shrugs. “I was.”

“What happened?”

Mihai thinks for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to word it. “Stefan said something stupid,” Mihai says, finally. Alfred blinks. “I punched him.”

“Okay.”

“So where did you go?”

“Had to check some stuff,” Ion opens his mouth to say something, but in the end, decides not to. “Soo, you work with Stefan then.”

Mihai shakes his head. “No. It's a complicated story.” Mihai is...nice, Alfred figures. Kind of quiet, though he may just be shy. “Anyways, it's almost time for lunch and Natalia arrived just a bit ago so she'll be joining us.”

“What about the others?”

“They're still discussing who gets what.”

“So the war was a territory dispute?”

Mihai shakes his head. “I wouldn't expect an outsider to know why it happened,” He shifts a little, crossing his legs. “Someone important and dear to Ivan's father was assassinated, I guess, and it was believed to be foul play from another country. Especially during some royal thing. From there, things got out of hand.”

“...Yeah, I think Artie mentioned that.”

“Artie?”

Alfred waves his hand, “Nobody important.” Soon, Anya comes by and grabs them, quietly explaining that yes, the others will be joining them besides Ivan and Stefan. And not to make any mention of what's happening.

Ion, who is happily nestled in Mihai's arm, asks why and bombards her with the same question as she does her best to avoid answering him. Eventually, she shushes him with the promise of candy later and Ion accepts the deal with no problem. It dawns on Alfred that's _exactly_ what the kid was looking for as a small grin forms on the child's face.

Natalia is already seated at the table, near where Ivan would sit, her back straight and she playing with the dark blue ribbon that's tied in her hair. She's beautiful, to say the least, but the half-glare is enough to keep Alfred silent.

Lunch is quiet, and Alfred tries to pretend he doesn't notice the way Toris is looking at Natalia, and he pretends not to notice the heavy atmosphere. Katyusha is obviously uncomfortable, with the way she plays with her food and sips at the wine. Natalia doesn't acknowledge them even after lunch, swiftly leaving, back straight and proud, blue dress swishing as she walks.

Alfred debates on forgoing his assignment and informing Katyusha that he's leaving. Now wouldn't be a good idea to assassinate him.

He lingers outside the meeting hall, trying to hear in, but the wooden door is too thick. Someone raises their voice, and he hears fists pounding against the table.

“You would think it's an easy decision,” Feliks says, as he stops by. “But I don't think they're talking about the goods of war or whatever.”

“What would they be talking about?”

“Ivan is a monster.”

The words come out, almost wavering and Alfred winces.

“If Ivan is a monster, than so am I.” The assassin replies, after a moment. Feliks only shrugs and walks away, and Alfred sighs.

Tonight.

It rings through him, and leaves a feeling almost like he's been stabbed in the gut, with a pounding heart and a feeling of dread. If Alfred were honest with himself, something that he never is, he'd rather turn the dagger on himself. Allow himself become worm food before doing this again.

He pulls away from the wall, and slinks off.

 

–

 

The outside air nips at him, skin unprotected from the unforgiving cold. The silent, vast land of a somber kingdom. Royalty is trapped behind stone walls, trapped behind guards and soldiers ready to give their lives, ready to conquer and kill on command. Nobody cares for the strange blond has he walks across the giant, white yard. A dog barks at him.

Instead of scaling the wall, he goes through the gates. Nobody questions or says anything. Despite the chatter from the peasants, despite the children running through the streets or the call of the farm animals, everything feels quiet.

“Alfred.”

The voice comes, calmly from somewhere and he stupidly follows it. Almost as if he were a curious child.

“Why haven't you done your job yet?”

Finding his boss standing there, arms crossed and a frown on his handsome face, Alfred shrugs. “I'm workin' on it.”

“Well, work quicker.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Unless,” Abel says, voice quiet and calm. It's enough to send chills down Alfred's spine. “you no longer want this commission.”

“I-I do! Just uh, y'know, things got complicated.” Abel doesn't say anything, only stares. “Look, Yao , Vash and Mikkel are here, making peace talks. I don't want to disrupt it or make things worse than what they are.” Alfred hesitates. “D-despite that, I plan on doing it tonight.” He notices his voice had gone a few octaves higher, and Alfred clears his throat. “I promise.”

“Good. Meet me here after you do it, then.”

“Y-yeah.” Alfred steps away from Abel, forcing a smile. “See ya then, I guess.” He cannot get away from his boss fast enough, but he can't seem to escape the ever cold stare. Abel isn't really a jerk, he's just a hard-ass, Alfred knows this, but yet, Abel's straight forward and brutal honesty is always taken for rudeness. Alfred both appreciates it and hates it.

His pride feels dead.

Alfred walks around for hours now, stopping every so often to pet a dog or click his tongue at a cat in hopes to get it to come to him, or even a chicken that's walking the street. He's out long enough that he's sure he's lost all feeling in his body and the bruises from yesterday are starting to ache.

He catches sentences here and there, something about Princess Natalia being out and about. That's curious.

By now, the sun is nearly down and most people have treated indoors.

“You!”

Alfred grimaces, and groans inwardly as he turns around. Who is going to threaten his life now? Instead of someone he's probably pissed off, he finds Natalia standing there, hands on her hips and a glare on her face. She's quite scary for a woman, he thinks.

“Big brother is looking for you!” Her voice is a little shrill, and she reaches out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along, sharp nails digging into his skin. “How could you disappear like that and make big brother worried?”

“I uh. I was bored?” Natalia says nothing as she continues to pull him along, and for some reason, he isn't at all surprised by how strong she is. “So, err, how was your trip?”

“It was fine.” Short, snappy. “You ask stupid questions.”

“I only asked _one_ question!”

“Stop talking.” In the distance, he hears a church bell ring. Prayers to the goddess start now. The pulling stops soon, and she releases his arm and allows him to walk beside her. “Is it true?” She finally speaks.

“Is what true?”

“Don't play stupid.”

“...Why do you want to know?”

“Big brother loves you.”

“Don't say stupid things,” He parrots back. “I don't care how he feels.”

“I do.”

“Of course you do, he's your brother. _I'm_ an assassin, and we've only known each other for only four days. You can't fall in love in four fucking days, Princess. Regardless of his feelings, I have a job.” Alfred draws in a deep breath. “Before you ask why I haven't done it yet, I don't know. But it's going to happen soon. Maybe I just fucking pity him.”

Natalia says nothing more on their walk back to the castle.

Dinner is tense, everyone is there. Alfred tries to eat, but in the end, could barely manage. Mikkel, Vash and Yao excuse themselves and disappear to their rooms for the rest of the night. Stefan, Mihai and Ion are leaving that night.

He wonders what the outcome was.

Stefan corners Alfred in Ivan's room later on that evening, while Ivan spends time with his sisters. Arms crossed over his chest, green eyes on him.

“Shut up.” Is all Alfred can say.

“I wasn't going to say anything,” The sorcerer replies, with a roll of his eyes. “Just trying to understand you. Where are you from?”

“Across the seas, though I was raised in one of the Western Kingdoms with my sister.”

“By whom?”

“Arthur Kirkland.”

“I thought you looked familiar.” They lapse into another silence. “Ion told me that you've decided then. Your boss is waiting for you.”

“If I don't do it, he'll have my head.” Alfred pauses. “Or I'll be stuck here.”

“Would you hate that?”

“What?”

“Stuck here. With Ivan.”

“I don't know,” Alfred admits. “I miss my sister. I don't like this type of life, and I feel like I'm in a prison. After all, his sisters and best friend want to fucking kill me.”

“Only if you hurt Ivan.” Stefan points out. “I don't like you, Alfred.”

“Wow. Way to state the obvious.”

“It doesn't mean I'll treat you like a criminal if you do kill Ivan.” He pauses for a moment. “Think of this like putting down a rabid dog. That dog was once a beloved pet, and it was bitten. What do you do? Let it suffer, possibly hurt you? One would logically kill that dog.”

“But Ivan is a person.”

“Do you not agree, for his crimes, that he should pay?”

“I-I um. I agree.”

“I need to get going,” Stefan suddenly says. “I'll leave this piece of advice with you. Don't do anything you'll regret later.”

 

–

 

It's way after dark when the sorcerer and his 'followers' leave (Toris later tells Alfred in confidence that Mihai and Stefan have a bit of a relationship going on, though they fight a lot), and the goodbye's are kind of quiet, somber. Ion is already slumbering away, in Mihai's arms and if Alfred didn't know any better, he'd mistake them for brothers. It's all tight smiles and cordial words.

Alfred goes through the motions.

He suggests to Ivan they get drunk tonight. Even though the others are leaving tomorrow, they should get very drunk. Forget about the residual anger, forget responsibilities because hey, they're allowed to do that once in awhile. Natalia and Katyusha protest but ultimately don't stop them.

Ivan grabs Alfred's hand, fingers lacing in with each other and Alfred plays along. He's surprised at how soft Ivan's skin is, how tight the grip is, as though he's holding on for dear life. Alfred almost jerks his hand away.

They don't really talk as they pass the bottle of clear alcohol back and forth, munching on candy like they did just a few nights ago. It's almost a repeat.

“My caretaker was executed,” Alfred finally says, out of nowhere. “For magic.” Ivan is silent. “I've always held onto the anger of what happened to him. Mine and Amelia's parents died when we were very, very young. I don't remember them much.”

Ivan still doesn't seem to want to say anything.

“I miss them some days,” He sighs. Is this the alcohol talking or him? “For awhile after that, we lived on the streets. Stealing what we can. One day, when we were in our teens, Amelia fell sick. It's almost like it's a common story. Sick sibling, would do anything.” He draws in a deep breath. “Us street kids, we sort of just...latched onto each other.”

“Were you guys like a family?”

“Yeah.” Alfred mumbles. “One day, I was approached by a woman whom I had stolen from, and she propositioned me. She said if I killed her unfaithful husband, she would pay me.” Alfred shook his head. “It was sloppy and hard at first. A human life, y'know. Different from an animal. Something happened, I don't know what. Suddenly, I was an assassin for hire. And then, we formed a gang like group, assassins on commission. Some of us failed. Some of us died. Some of us were captured and turned into slaves.” He leans back. “I was doing this to help my sister.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ivan whispers.

Alfred licks his lips. Something hot is against his cheeks and he rubs at his eye, the same hotness touching his finger tips. _Fuck._ “I don't know what I'm doing anymore.”

The pause is long, it's sinful. Ivan finally moves closer, until there's hardly any space between them. There's a small hesitation and Alfred goes for it. The kiss is sloppy, too much tongue, too much teeth and biting.

Motions become too blurred for him to keep up with, a desperate and silent plea to forget. Clothes are discarded around the room and Alfred thinks that Anya will be angered at the mess. And probably angered at Alfred for fucking the king.

Or maybe insist they marry.

They're on the bed soon enough, and Alfred's hand is stroking at Ivan's penis, earning quiet moans and groans. Alfred bites at Ivan's collarbone as he continues to stroke him, as hot lips nibble at his neck. Alfred forgets. He forgets for a moment what his job is, he forgets until his head is laid on the pillow where he feels the dagger underneath, until his legs are spread and fingers pressing at his entrance.

This is not his first time.

He hisses when fingers push in and he jerks when the fingers strike against something on the inside that sends a hot feeling through him and sits in his lower stomach. Ivan smiles at that.

The teasing continues, the kissing becomes more hard and without thinking, Alfred flips them over and distracts Ivan with kisses and heavy grinding as he reaches under the pillow.

With his other hand, he grabs at Ivan's cock and gently, carefully lowers himself onto it and hisses as it enters.

“Don't hurt yourself,” Ivan's voice comes out husky. Movements are jerky, quick and heavy and Alfred nearly lets go of the handle and bites down at Ivan's collarbone. Leaving marks is not a good idea.

They write love notes on each others skin anyways, red marks that looks so angry and this time around, after a brief period of panting and trying to regain strength, Alfred climbs back on top of Ivan, whose eyes are closed. Softly, he runs his fingers over the scars, careful to not let Ivan feel the dagger, following his fingers, he leaves softer kisses.

Alfred doesn't rush this time around, and after awhile, after Ivan is so relaxed, he stops and sits up a little straighter, lifting the dagger up above Ivan's chest, where his heart should be.

Drawing in a deep breath, Alfred lowers it, and it overs not even an inch away from the skin and he's taken by surprise when hands wrap around both of his, tightly.

“Now, of all times?”

Alfred swallows.

“Do it.” Ivan's voice is surprisingly calm, steady. “I no longer care.”

“You never did,” Alfred's voice is hoarse. Before he can say anything else, his hands are forcibly jerked down and he can just _feel_ the dagger breaking through skin and bone. The blood slowly pools up and he's starting down into violet eyes, and a smile on Ivan's face.

“All you needed was a little push, yes?”

Alfred lets out a yell, accidentally tugging the dagger from the deep wound and throws it across the room. He hears it clatter somewhere and he stumbles off the bed. He fumbles with pulling his clothes on, accidentally getting what blood had surfaced on his hands onto the soft fabrics and he shudders. Without thinking of all his plans, he darts to the window and pushes it open, and quickly climbs out the best he can.

He doesn't look back as he runs, the harsh cold isn't anything compared to the way his heart throbs in his chest, threatening to burst out. Alfred clumsily scales the wall and falls over, into a soft pile of snow and he lays there, for a moment. He contemplates letting himself freeze to death, but finally, with a soft growl, Alfred forces himself out of the pile and continues his way. When he finally stops is when the castle is out of sight, is when he's sure ghosts have stopped chasing him.

Alfred throws up.


	5. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter, some stuff came up.
> 
> And thank you all for your support! I didn't mean for this to get so dark, but I did admittedly enjoy it!

The air is hot and sticky, but Alfred is used to it by now, hiding in the shadows and leaning up against the wall. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his other hand holding a half empty glass of wine. This is the last place he wants to be, but Isabel insisted he come. He'd known Isabel when he was a little child, meeting her through Arthur, who had explained that they hadn't ever really gotten along, but to trust her anyways.

His heart thuds in his chest, hard as he finds a familiar person. Too familiar, lingering and socializing with people, that stupid childish smile on his face.

A blink and he's gone.

Ivan has made it a point to haunt him every day, it seems. The bastard.

A woman walks up to him and offers to dance. Everything feels so fake, it feels as though everyone is putting on an act and it dawns on him that she's the one who hired him. So he accepts.

It doesn't take long for him to get into step with the waltz, twisting, turning, ducking. In tandem, easily. He's had enough practice (Arthur was always on his case, and there was once when nobody was looking, he and Ivan danced together in the ballroom) to know how to do it so a woman would be happy. This isn't his thing, though. It's too frumpy, to stuck up.

“Enjoying the party?”

“Much better now that you're here,” Alfred easily says.

“Of course,” She murmurs. She steps closer. “I know of your past, Alfred.” He steps away and twirls her and she's close again, one hand on his chest. “I know what you've done.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

They stop and she pulls him off the dance floor, leading him out to the balcony. Outside is no better than the inside, in fact, it feels _much_ worse. She leans against the balcony's wall, peering out towards the vast garden. “I have a secret to share with you,”

After Alfred had killed Ivan, Abel found him puking in the snow. Things went crazy after that, and Alfred went underground for awhile, pretending to be someone else. He had joined the church for awhile, pretending to care about a religion he doesn't believe in, and after ten years, when things calmed down, he came out of hiding.

Nobody remembered, though he's quite positive those closes to Ivan do but can no longer do anything. Alfred would be more than willing to return and let Toris run him through with his sword or maybe shoot him with a flintlock. Life is miserable and Alfred just wants to escape.

“And what's that secret?”

“I know who hired you to kill King Ivan.”

The humid air becomes chilly and Alfred steps away from the beautiful woman. “What?”

She stares at him with sincere green eyes, and the serious look is misplaced from her usual cheery demeanor. “I know who-”

“I heard you!” Alfred snaps, raising his voice a few octaves, and he struggles to keep his voice from cracking. “ _Who_?”

Isabel looks away from now, and back out to the garden. “His mother.” The admittance is out there. At Alfred's stunned silence, she continues. “She didn't really love her children,”

“Well, obviously, if she asks for his death.” He hisses. “I'm guessing she wanted the throne?”

“Possibly,” She murmurs. “By the time of Ivan's birth, she had fallen into a strange depression. When he was very young, she tried to drown him.”

“That entire family is fucked up.” Alfred pauses for a moment. “Royalty is fucked up.”

“And finally, after the birth of the youngest daughter and one suicide attempt later, the king banned the queen to an estate far away. She grew bitter and miserable out there, she was very abusive towards her staff.” Isabel continues, completely ignoring Alfred's remark. Isabel pulls her long brown hair out of it's hold, letting it flow down and over her slender shoulders. “I believe she wanted all three of her children to be there in the afterlife with her.”

“What do you mean?” Isabel hesitates. “Damn it, Isabel, it's been ten goddamn years. Just tell me!”

With a small frown and now tactfully choosing her words, Isabel weakly continues, “When news of Ivan's death got to her, they found her dead a week later.”

“So? That means nothing.”

“You were not the first assassin there, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Think for a minute. Was Ivan the only given target for you?”

“I was told to only kill the king,”

“The others were told to kill all three.”

“So, she wanted tactics to be changed.” He sees Ivan in the garden now. Perhaps it's the alcohol, perhaps it's the ever-lingering guilt, Alfred doesn't know but he feels sick. “His father tried killing him too.”

Isabel offers her hand, “I believe this conversation is getting too dark for such a joyous occasion.”

 

–

 

It wasn't hard breaking into the royal graveyard, snapping a neck or two and dashing across well kept graves until he finds the one he's looking for. It took him a month to travel back, since that party, but he doesn't care. He finds Ivan's grave, the large tomb is daunting and it makes him feel small.

Alfred sits down next to it, back leaning against the stone wall and he shivers a little. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles, voice breaking the silence. “I'm so fucking sorry.” Fingers dig in his pocket and he pulls out a small vile. “I asked Stefan to concoct a poison for me, but I didn't tell him what for. Never thought I'd stay in contact with that asshole,” Alfred falls silent for a moment. “He hasn't aged, but I guess that comes with bein' a magic user, huh?” Another pause. “I dunno about the rest, or what they're up to. Natalia married Toris, and Katyusha—am I still allowed to call her that?--took the throne. The war did stop, but a few years after you died.”

He digs in the dirt a little, “Me, I haven't been up to much, I guess. Just doin' my job. Killing people, protecting my sister. Pretending none of this hurts.” Fingers curl up. “I got in contact with someone from my childhood, or well, I got in contact with a few people. Francis was Arthur's lover, you know? Well, I convinced Amelia to go live with him for awhile. I also started talking to Isabel again. Beautiful woman, a bit out there though. She's happily married to a woman named Chiara, I think.”

Alfred stretches out, heel digging into the dirt a little. “I dunno. I guess I'm just a little lonely. Your death should not affect me so much, but what you did took me off guard I guess. Never, ever wanted to learn anything about my targets. Lesson learned, huh? In a manipulative way, I guess.” He pops off the cap. “God, I hope this doesn't taste like shit.” He downs the bitter, clear liquid, grimacing a little.

Time slowly drags on, and Alfred's body feels heavier and heavier. He panics a little as he feels his pulse slow down, heart beat going every few minutes down. It's hard to keep his eyes open and he struggles to draw in a deep breath as his lungs collapse.

The last thing he sees is a large shadow looming over him, looking down at him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And once again, thank you so so much for your support!


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